How I Define A Good Day
10:18 AM
June 24, 2016
Today around 9 a.m. my mom called home from work. She had put 15 bean soup in the crock pot before she left for work, and wanted me to finish it. At 12 p.m she wanted me to cut up sausages and mix them along with a can of tomatoes into the bean soup, as well as boil some rice. So ,of course, me being the obedient daughter she pushed out of her vagina a little over 17 years ago did as I was told. I was getting the oven mitts out of the drawer in the kitchen above the cabinet of pots and pans, and when I opened it, two things fell out: a glass dish she would usually use for things like meatloaf or pork loin and Paula Dean dish she named “Baker” which she used for things such as muffins or banana pudding. Unfortunately, Baker shattered in the process. I wasn’t injured in the initial shatter, but when I was placing the broken pieces in a plastic bag was when a piece punctured to places on my right pinky. All I could do to keep from crying was pace around and call myself an idiot as I proceeded to laugh at myself. A few seconds later my dad and sister had returned home, and I told them the situation. My sister was helping me bandage my bleeding pinky and at that point, I could no longer keep the tears away. I just felt like such a failure even though I had done exactly what my mom had asked of me. It was the fact that even when the mission was completed successfully, I still managed to fuck something up. I just felt like such a disappointment, and I joked to my dad about how “proud” he should be of me. I sulked in my room for a bit, watched some BuzzFeed videos, and moved on with my day. After that incident, my dog had somehow managed to get a hold of my vanilla waffers and ate the majority of them. This wasn’t the first time he had done this, but I try really hard to trust my dogs as much as they trust me. I may be overreacting, but to know he would betray my trust so easily just upset me. I told him, “no” and that he was “a bad dog”, but he just responded with growls and anger. I just sent him outside. I returned to my previous seat in the family room after this to continue watching pre-recorded shows with my mom and my siblings. I managed to joke around and have about 5 moments of pure, unapologetic laughing fits with my sister and brother. The reason I said all of that shit is to get to this point: If I laugh more than I cry in one day, then that day will be considered a good day.
Peace out web scouts! (:
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